


Moments of Certainty

by InfiniteJediLove



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Domestic, Jedi Knights, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Qui-Gon Lives, Sickfic, Slash, nonexplicit sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteJediLove/pseuds/InfiniteJediLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qui-Gon is recovering from lung injuries when he has a surprise visit from Obi-Wan. this is set two years after TPM (though I explain why Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan didn't actually go to Naboo.). Obi-Wan has been a Jedi Knight for a year and leaves in the middle of a mission to take care of Qui-Gon. This was inspired by a prompt for a O/Q sickfic and I hope it was successful, as i love this OTP so much. </p><p>for more obi/qui works or just beautiful pictures of them you can follow me on tumblr at infinitejedilove@tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I totally made up the Yildre. the Aqualish are canon. Ando is the homeworld of the the three Aqualish races, Aquala, Ualaq, Quara. not that this information is terribly relevant, i'm just a nerd. :)

Breathing was often taken for granted, Qui-Gon thought as he lie in bed, his chest stinging with each inhale and exhale. A monitor near him beeped slowly, presumably to remind him that he was rushing his healing. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, reaching for the Force, allowing it to envelop him and wash away his impatience at his slow recovery. He lie still, long graying hair sprawling loose over his pillow, his lungs burning as he struggled to maintain a calm breathing pattern. 

His last mission had been chaotic, as politics often were. The Yildre had been particularly ruthless when it came to party rivalry and disputes were all too common among the different territories. The bombing that one side had unleashed against the other had left many cities in ruins and far worse injuries than Qui-Gon’s. The fumes from the bombs had been dangerous to inhale, but Qui-Gon had not had the time to wait for proper safety equipment before attempting to rescue the wounded. He had been unable to hide his relief when the Senate had chosen to step in a week later and pressure the Yildre to some sort of resolution. 

Qui-Gon grimaced as his next inhale jarred faint pain through his body. Bacta treatment had helped, but he had waited to seek full medical aid until he had returned to Coruscant. His lung tissue would also take longer to heal due to his age, though he was hardly middle-aged, considering that many humanoids lived well past their hundreds. Still, Qui-Gon had insisted he was well enough to return to his quarters and the Jedi healers had relented, though they had placed a monitor near him and were adamant about bed rest. It was tedious for Qui-Gon. He was a man of action and did not take lightly to lying in bed all day, though it was equally discomforting to realize how weak he was when he did move to eat or shower. At least the healers had confirmed that in a few days his strength would return when his body was no longer preoccupied with healing the damage to his lungs.

* * * * *

It was in the afternoon when Qui-Gon heard the door of his quarters slide open. He lie there, sunlight streaming across his bed on a rare day where the air pollution on Coruscant did not obscure direct sunrays. He had requested time alone to heal but there was no mistaking the presence that moved in the main area of his quarters, the Force awakening in his mind and pulsing with heightened awareness. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth even as he narrowed his eyes in concern. There was movement, Qui-Gon picturing hands folding or hanging a cloak, then footsteps, that steady intent pace that he had not heard in so long. Too long. 

The door to his quarters slid open without a knock. Qui-Gon turned his head against his pillow, watching as his former apprentice stepped in. 

“What are you doing here, Obi-Wan?” he asked quietly, wincing faintly as his throat burned. 

Obi-Wan was frowning, but his eyes softened as they gazed at Qui-Gon.

“I would think that it’s obvious.” 

Obi-Wan’s low voice filled the room and Qui-Gon tried to sit up, suddenly needing to be near this man he had not seen in almost a year. Obi-Wan crossed the room in a few strides, pushing Qui-Gon lightly back down and frowning harder as the man coughed. Qui-Gon grimaced at Obi-Wan’s intent look. 

“I’m fine. The healers say my lungs will be healed in a few days and I will regain my strength fully.” 

Obi-Wan huffed a small breath of frustration and the gesture was so achingly familiar that Qui-Gon reached up, brushing his thumb over Obi-Wan’s cheek. 

“Let me look at you,” he whispered roughly, his throat stinging. 

Obi-Wan stepped back, hands clasped in front of him, his posture straightening. Qui-Gon titled his head. Obi-Wan looked different since the last time they had seen each other. The younger man had cut his padawan ponytail and braid at his knighthood ceremony a year ago. His hair had grown out enough that it lay flat now and he remained clean-shaven. Obi-Wan wore an odd collection of civilian clothes and that alone surprised Qui-Gon. He rarely saw his former apprentice wear anything other than Jedi clothing.  
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at Obi-Wan’s stern expression that had yet to yield. The younger knight was much thinner than when they had last seen each other, almost gaunt, though he retained his wiry muscle. 

“The Aqualish did not provide proper food for you?” he questioned and Obi-Wan sighed. 

“I cannot believe you are asking after _my_ health.” 

He sat down on the edge of Qui-Gon’s bed, posture still impeccable. 

“The racial tensions on Ando keep me too busy to eat as often as I used to.” 

Qui-Gon coughed, waving away Obi-Wan’s concerned reach for him.

“If you intend to wait until the Aqualish stop their feuding and bigotry to eat properly Obi-wan, then I have no doubt you will starve to death.” 

Obi-Wan smiled and Qui-Gon felt his own stern expression soften. Obi-Wan’s smiles were rare, his former apprentice tending to be quite serious. But now Obi-Wan radiated such contentment that Qui-Gon could feel his own Force sense filling with it. He sensed their Force bond warm between them. It had not faded as many master and apprentice bonds did, for he was bound to Obi-Wan through more than one cherished connection. He brushed Obi-Wan’s cheek once more, tracing a pale cheekbone. 

“It is good to see you again.” 

His voice sounded unfamiliar to himself, rasping and torn, Obi-Wan’s smile widened at his words, making him appear much younger than his twenty-seven years.

“I trust that the Aqaulish agreed to the negotiations?” Qui-Gon asked, wincing as his chest burned with subtle pain. 

The sudden infusion of guilt through the Force and the shift of Obi-Wan’s eyes caused him to look quickly at his former apprentice. 

“Obi-Wan…” 

A streak of defiance traveled through their Force bond and Obi-Wan lifted his chin. 

“It doesn’t matter, since the Aqualish have resisted any attempt for planetary peace talks, they’ll hardly notice me gone.” 

Qui-Gon stared at him, torn between the urge to laugh or groan and not feeling like his lungs could do either adequately. 

“Obi-Wan you cannot abandon a mission —”

Obi-Wan frowned, standing and crossing his arms.

“You’re injured; you need someone to care for you.” 

Qui-Gon shook his head, still not quite believing that Obi-Wan would so directly disobey Jedi code. And yet, Obi-Wan was full of surprises. It had been the younger man who had approached him six years ago, who had confessed a love that was expressively forbidden from the Jedi path. It had been Obi-Wan who had fought for their love, combing through thousands of different data records in the Jedi archive to find support for the connection between them, were the council to confront them on their relationship. So far the council had remained quiet on the matter, but Qui-Gon doubted they were ignorant. He had never followed their rules very closely, but it was Obi-Wan who had been ready to defy everything and everyone in order to become Qui-Gon’s lover. And now, to discover that the mission Obi-Wan had spent months working for had fallen to the side because Qui-Gon was ill… 

“I will recover soon, there is no need —” 

“There _is_ a need.” Obi-Wan interrupted bluntly, in a rare burst of righteous anger that Qui-Gon had never been able to argue with. Obi-Wan shifted forward, sunlight falling on him as he stood near Qui-Gon’s bed. The younger man touched one of Qui-Gon’s broad shoulders, leaning down to kiss him lightly on the mouth before pulling back to stroke a slender hand through Qui-Gon’s long silvering hair. 

“You did the same for me two years ago, when the Senate wished for us to investigate the Trade Federation further, and I was ill.” 

Qui-Gon shook his head, letting out a slow careful breath.

“That was different Obi-Wan, you needed medical treatment and another Jedi team was easily available to take the mission to Naboo.” 

His protest lacked conviction however so he settled for pulling Obi-Wan’s head back down and kissing him. Lips met his, the shape and feel of them exactly how Qui-Gon remembered. The Force flared through his body, their bond humming as Obi-Wan’s mouth opened to his. All too soon his partner pulled back, Obi-Wan’s large ocean-colored eyes gleaming in the full sunlight. 

“This can’t be helping your breathing,” he remarked lightly, Qui-Gon’s mouth twitching in a small smile. 

“I’ll make you tea.” Obi-Wan suggested as another cough broke from Qui-Gon’s searing lungs. 

“I am not an invalid.” Qui-Gon murmured between each painful breath, but Obi-Wan was already striding purposefully from the room. Qui-Gon listened to Obi-Wan leave, sensing the man’s presence swirling throughout their quarters. He smiled up at the ceiling.


	2. Worry

“What did you tell the council about leaving the mission?” he asked Obi-Wan when the man had brought him tea. 

Obi-Wan didn’t so much as blink but Qui-Gon guessed clearly through the hesitant emotions in their bond. 

“Obi-Wan!” he exclaimed, hissing in pain as his lungs burned. 

The younger man moved forwards in concern but Qui-Gon shook his head. 

“Explain.” He stated firmly, fixing the other Jedi with a look. 

Obi-Wan pushed a hand through his hair, and Qui-Gon felt a burst of rueful irritation that already he was drawn from the conversation with affection for his lover’s everyday gestures. Obi-Wan’s hair looked redder now that it had grown out some and Qui-Gon wondered what the man would look like with the beard and long hair that many male Jedi chose to sport. 

“They don’t need to know. I’ll return to Ando as soon as you’re better.” 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly, not knowing how his rule-abiding lover could possibly justify leaving his mission to sneak into the Temple in order to care for Qui-Gon. No wonder the man didn’t want to inform the council. 

Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan moved around his room, their room. The bright sunlight silhouetted Obi-Wan’s form and the dark clothes he wore and suddenly Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than to hold the man in his arms. 

* * * * * *

They did not speak of Obi-Wan’s reasons for arriving, instead Obi-Wan fixed a meal for them, bringing it to Qui-Gon’s bed, though Qui-Gon could have easily walked to the eating area. The older Jedi watched as Obi-Wan bent over the side table, placing another mug of steaming tea down for Qui-Gon. The younger man’s shirt was open slightly at the collar, revealing his pale throat and the faint freckles along his neck and collarbone that Qui-Gon missed with a sudden fierceness. 

Qui-Gon ate very little, each mouthful searing his throat when he swallowed. He was breathing rapidly when Obi-Wan took the tray away. It was pointless to feel frustration at his own frailty, his inability to properly inhale without feeling pain. Still, Qui-Gon released his emotions once more into the Force, closing his eyes and regulating his breathing so it was shallow and less painful. Obi-Wan returned to him, eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

“You will recover.” his former apprentice stated with such intensity that Qui-Gon looked up, startled. 

Obi-Wan’s gaze was direct, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he scanned Qui-Gon’s face. But underneath that, through the liquid warmth of their bond Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan’s fear, his concern. Qui-Gon reached out, his large hand sliding over Obi-Wan’s arm. 

“Yes,” he said. 

Obi-Wan shook his head, moving away, the light from the window washing over his pleasing features, shining along his pale skin and extraordinarily blue-green eyes. The tension and unhappiness radiating from the man was palpable. Qui-Gon moved to sit up, Obi-Wan returning to the bed to help him. 

“What is wrong?” Qui-Gon murmured. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes darted to his face, the smaller man sitting down in the small chair he had drawn over besides Qui-Gon’s bed when they had ate. 

“I feel fear for the future,” Obi-Wan confessed, head bending to study the sheets.

Qui-Gon reached out, touching the soft hair, stroking a large hand through it.

“You keep your thoughts focused too much on the future,” he remarked softly. 

Obi-Wan’s head jerked up, his expression tight with a fierce vulnerability that Qui-Gon had witnessed very few times. 

“You cannot deny that you will die before me, considering our difference in age and the dangerous missions that the council insist you take.” 

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, sliding his hand away. 

“That is a possibility. One that I recall expressing when you told me of how you felt for me,” he bit his lip, his breath catching painfully in his tender throat, “have you changed your mind about our union?” 

Obi-Wan frowned, shaking his head, 

“Of course not! I just…when Bant told me that you were injured…I couldn’t stay on Ando, I had to…” 

Obi-Wan released a small sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. Though he was still quite young, his boyish looks easily making him appear more youthful than his age, Qui-Gon could see a weariness in Obi-Wan through the man’s averted eyes, his suddenly hunched shoulders, head bent in thought. For a moment Qui-Gon wondered if that would be how Obi-Wan would appear as an old man and he felt a pang of sorrow, for he would likely never see Obi-Wan grow very old. That in itself was the problem. Many times he had refused to consider the future and the fact that death was a common outcome of certain Jedi missions. He could not bear to lose Obi-Wan, anymore than his lover could bear to lose him. 

Qui-Gon watched a shaft of white sunlight fall on Obi-Wan’s bowed head, glinting on a small ear, the auburn hair. 

“There are no certainties in life, my Obi-Wan.” he reminded his former apprentice softly. 

The younger man looked up at him, eyes gleaming.

“Some things are certain,” Obi-Wan stated, his low voice trembling, yet authoritative. 

The Force surged between them, Obi-Wan channeling his worries, his boundless devotion to Qui-Gon, his unbreakable love in all its glorious forms. Qui-Gon smiled, unable to quite speak around the tightness of his throat, he lay his hand over Obi-Wan’s, feeling strong slender fingers encircle his own much larger ones.


	3. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter! how did you like ill Qui-Gon and bossy but loving Obi-Wan? please review and let me know what you think! :)

Obi-Wan stood on the small balcony that led out from Qui-Gon’s quarters. He watched night descend on Coruscant, multi-level buildings near the Temple brightening with thousands of inner lights as the sky darkened a deep blue. It was strange, returning to the Temple, his home, but not his home. He leaned against the edge of the balcony, frowning in thought. Qui-Gon had fallen asleep in the late afternoon and Obi-Wan had meditated on the balcony so as not to disturb him. His fear for Qui-Gon’s health was still there, evading release into the Force.

Obi-Wan’s hands tightened on the edge of the balcony. He had left the Aqualish in the midst of their squabbling, had returned to care for Qui-Gon, without the Temple’s permission or guidance. Yet, he could not feel the same level of guilt he once had, for disobeying. Qui-Gon was his beloved. It was his duty to care for the other man. Obi-Wan sighed, crossing his arms against the slight chill of nightfall. The air was cooler on Coruscant than he was used to now, but as a Jedi he was able to adjust his body to a large variety of temperatures. He breathed in, ignoring the desire to grab a cloak to pull over his thin blue shirt. Obi-Wan stood for a long moment, thinking about Qui-Gon. He had no doubt that his former master would recover his full strength, but seeing Qui-Gon injured or ill in anyway always caused Obi-Wan fear. It was foolish, but he could not prevent it. 

Stars were slowly appearing on the horizon, faint from the pollution, nowhere near the brightness he had observed on watery Ando. Obi-Wan stifled another sigh. Ando had been a frustrating mission so far. He had spent months there and the racial tensions between the Aquala and the Quara had only increased, despite his best diplomatic efforts. The sound of a glass door sliding open behind him caused him to turn his head to the side, though he had already sensed Qui-Gon wake minutes ago. 

“You’re not supposed to be up,” Obi-wan said softly, watching Qui-Gon smile. 

The man stepped out unto the balcony. Even ill and weakened the Jedi master moved with poise, his large build conveying both grace and power. Qui-Gon looked much the same since they had last met, even with his hair fully loose and only a lightweight undertunic and pants on. 

“I’ve rested too much,” Qui-Gon responded. 

His voice was raspy, but better than it had been earlier. Obi-Wan smiled then shot a critical look at Qui-Gon’s bare feet. 

“You’ll get cold,” he remarked. 

Qui-Gon said nothing, but Obi-Wan sensed the man hushing him through the Force. Qui-Gon moved to stand at Obi-Wan’s back, reaching around him to place hands on the balcony railing, leaning his head down to brush a light kiss against the tip of Obi-Wan’s ear. Obi-Wan made a small sound, jumping at the contact. 

“Qui-Gon…” 

He didn’t know if he was scolding or encouraging the older man and Qui-Gon gave a soft laugh that turned into a faint cough. Obi-Wan turned in his arms. 

“You need rest,” he stated sternly. 

Qui-Gon smiled gently, amused almost, but allowed Obi-Wan to tangle their hands together and lead the man back inside their quarters.

 

* * * * * *

 

“I have missed you.” Qui-Gon said later, as Obi-Wan was pushing another cup of tea into his hands. 

Obi-Wan looked up at the man, but Qui-Gon looked away, sipping the hot tea. They were not the type of lovers to confess strong emotions, Obi-Wan could count on one hand the number of times that Qui-Gon had said ‘I love you’. It was not necessary, not when the Force easily spoke for them, their bond displaying all their most inner emotions regarding their love for one another. Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon settle back against the pillows, his slightly lined face tired, but always handsome. 

“It is difficult, being away from each other.” Obi-Wan finally responded quietly. 

Qui-Gon smiled, deep blue eyes blinking in the dim light. It was dark outside now, Obi-Wan drawing the curtains to block out the flashing lights from buildings and air speeders. It made their room feel like an intimate nest and he glanced away, up at Qui-Gon’s monitor. Qui-Gon had disconnected its line already, and despite Obi-Wan’s protests, he could privately admit that the monitor was not needed anymore; Qui-Gon’s breathing was still ragged, but it was healing well. 

“Perhaps the council will assign us a mission together sometime, as knights.” Qui-Gon suggested calmly into the comfortable silence that had risen between them.  
Obi-Wan gave a small nod, though they knew the possibility was unlikely. There were too many missions for multiple Jedi to be assigned to only one. Already the Temple was struggling to keep up with the Senate’s requests. 

“Or perhaps you will take a padawan learner soon,” Qui-Gon remarked, setting his tea down on the side table near the bed. 

His eyes followed Obi-Wan as the younger man straightened the sheets. Obi-Wan frowned. 

“No, I don’t believe I will.” 

Qui-Gon turned his head, shifting slightly on to his side to face him. 

“You are sure of this?” he asked gravely. 

Obi-Wan paused from tucking the loose corner of a sheet back against the bedframe. 

“I am.” 

He had considered it before, but he never saw himself in a parental, nor instructor role. Though most Jedi knights sought padawans, there were a few who did not. Not training a padawan would deny him the rank of Master, but status did not concern Obi-Wan. He prized his solitude as a Jedi, even friendships for him were rare. Qui-Gon was the only one he had allowed into his private thoughts and emotions. Their bond was a warm glowing presence, swirling trust and love between them and Qui-Gon nodded, having no need to question Obi-Wan further. 

Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched in a small smile. He leaned down, kissing Qui-Gon’s forehead, pulling blankets up over the man. Qui-Gon’s hand reached out, gripping his shoulder. 

“Stay.” The older man murmured and Obi-Wan could not refuse. 

They lay close to one another, the man’s bed small for both their bodies. Qui-Gon carded fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair and the younger man closed his eyes, sinking into that mental place where they connected at times like these. Worries and concerns did not belong in such a place. Here, only Qui-Gon and him existed. 

Fingers stroked over Obi-Wan’s smooth jaw, a raw cough coming from Qui-Gon so that Obi-Wan pressed a palm lightly over his lover’s chest, sending as much comfort and healing as he could through the Force while his other thumb rubbed circles against Qui-Gon’s wrist. His lover’s breath calmed, though it remained slightly uneven. A hand brushed Obi-Wan’s side and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, watching silently as Qui-Gon began to unbutton the blue civilian shirt Obi-Wan wore. 

Qui-Gon was injured, ill, and Obi-Wan wondered if they shouldn’t…but it had been months since they’d seen each other and months before that since they had been able to make love. 

He shifted over onto his side, facing Qui-Gon and reaching for the ties of the man’s undertunic, slipping it off easily and baring Qui-Gon’s pale torso. Qui-Gon’s body was still fit, broad shouldered and slender-waisted, it was a lanky muscular build that Obi-Wan had grown intimately familiar with in the last few years. He stroked a palm over Qui-Gon’s back, feeling the faint ridges of scars from old missions. A whipping on Malastare, a space battle in the middle core, a vibroblade stab in the ribs, a old lightsaber burn from childhood training…all of them Obi-Wan had grown to know and cherish. 

His own body curled to the larger shape of his lover’s, Qui-Gon sliding fingers over Obi-Wan’s ribs. Obi-Wan could sense Qui-Gon’s concern about his thinness, but his former master said nothing, the man leaning forward instead, drawing Obi-Wan’s face to his and kissing him lightly. 

They were careful in their kisses, Obi-Wan nervous of hurting Qui-Gon’s lungs and Qui-Gon gentle with him in the way Qui-Gon always was. Hands mapped bodies, Obi-Wan moving closer, feeling Qui-Gon’s palms against his hips, a mouth tracing his jawline, Qui-Gon’s beard tickling Obi-Wan’s throat. 

They pulled off the rest of each other’s clothes, Obi-Wan reveling in the feel of Qui-Gon’s strong frame. The older man hummed lightly, the pleased sound raw from his injured lungs, but there was a sweetness there that Obi-Wan longed for. He kissed Qui-Gon briefly but hard, their tongues stroking and parting. Gently he eased the larger man down on his back, kneeling naked by Qui-Gon’s side. Obi-wan stared at his lover’s face sternly, watching for any signs of distress from the man’s still healing lungs. Qui-Gon returned the focused gaze, his lips parted slightly in breath. 

The soft light of the room gleamed on their exposed skin, Qui-Gon’s graying hair falling in a tangled mane around his bare shoulders. Qui-Gon slid one hand up across the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and into his short hair, he drew Obi-Wan down, his other palm tight on Obi-Wan’s hip. Their lips met again and Obi-Wan couldn’t hold back a sigh, his lean body coming over Qui-Gon’s, careful not to add any weight on Qui-Gon’s ribcage. 

Qui-Gon’s Force presence was vibrant throughout their bond, warm skin meeting as the older man’s hands slid around Obi-Wan, gripping his shoulder blades lightly. They pulled back from kissing, resting foreheads together, Qui-Gon’s breath rough with each inhale. Obi-Wan smiled, tilting his head to kiss Qui-Gon tenderly again. He trailed his mouth downwards, stopping at the man’s collarbones. He licked the edge of one lightly, hearing Qui-Gon murmur softly, a quiet bliss circling throughout their bond. 

Their lovemaking was gentle, hands redefining each other’s bodies, fingers stroking over spines, hips and strong thighs. Obi-Wan paused each time Qui-Gon’s breathing turned to coughs, moving only when he knew it would not disrupt the man’s healing lungs. Qui-Gon held him close, kissing him, gasping quietly into his mouth, legs wrapped around Obi-Wan’s waist. Obi-Wan whispered soft nothings, needing to both comfort and pleasure Qui-Gon, feeling the same desire in the other man. The soft light was shining on Qui-Gon’s face, his deep-set eyes widening slightly, hips pushing upwards as Obi-Wan shuddered above him. They swallowed each other’s final cries, Obi-Wan’s head dropping to nestle against Qui-Gons’ shoulder, feeling his lover brush a hand over Obi-Wan’s lean back. 

 

* * * * * *

 

It was the third day since Obi-wan had arrived. Qui-gon sat on the couch in the main area of their quarters, watching as Obi-wan slid boots on, the younger man now wearing his usual Jedi tunics. His beloved moved with a quiet confidence, gathering his travel cloak to return to Ando. Qui-gon stood, relieved at how much stronger he felt, his lungs still ached faintly now and then, but he would recover fully. He went to Obi-wan, tugging the man’s cloak closed, needing an excuse to pull Obi-wan into his arms before his partner left for his shuttle. The younger man was small and slender in his hold, Obi-wan returning the embrace with a strong grip of his own arms. When they pulled back slightly, Qui-gon rested his hands on Obi-wan’s shoulders, 

“The talks on Ando should end soon,” he said, but it was clear that there was no way of knowing when they would meet again. 

It was what they had learned to accept as Jedi. The moments they did have were made all the more precious due to the distance between them. Obi-wan’s eyes looked up to meet his. 

“There are no certainties in life,” he reminded Qui-gon, his small mouth curling in a half-smile. 

Qui-gon smiled back, his eyes trailing over his lover’s features, taking in Obi-wan’s beauty and pure strength of will, their Force bond singing between them. He touched Obi-wan’s chin, tilting it to kiss his beloved deeply. 

“Some things are certain.”


End file.
